


Last Spaghetti

by Norasilotak



Series: A Dinner With Skeletons [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mafiafell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Anger Management, Dick Jokes, Implied/Referenced Animal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, MC Is A Piece Of Shit, Mild Claustrophobia, Mild Language, Other, Pain, Sans gets pranked, The Fic Is Way Softer Than The Tags Imply, Torture, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), suffocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24184087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Norasilotak/pseuds/Norasilotak
Summary: The man is tough, he has lived a life of violence and enjoyed it as much as he could.So when he got caught by a monster mob of a rival gang, he was more curious and excited than scared for his life.That amused Sans quite a bit.
Relationships: Sans & Papyrus
Series: A Dinner With Skeletons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731094
Comments: 9
Kudos: 19





	Last Spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

> An other Dinner With Skeletons, this time with the Fell!Bros who also happen to be part of a gang.  
> There might be mistakes here and there, sorry for that.  
> Fell!Sans is called Serif  
> Fell!Papyrus is called Trajan  
> The main character isn't named.

The human in the room was silent.

He was sitting on a chair, waiting patiently.

That was all he could do.

When he had been caught during a fight between his gang and the monster scum, he didn't even see who got him. He just felt an iron grip grasp his arm and a second later, he was blinded, sat on a chair and his wrists and ankles were tied to it expertly. Then the blind had been removed, but when he turned around, he didn't see anyone, or anything.  
Monsters... They could do some insane stuff. How could the government allow them to roam freely on the surface was beyond him.  
So he took his time to calm himself down. He had lived similar situations before, at war. There was nothing new, there. Was there ?  
But when he used to be questioned by freedom enemies, the room he was in had at least a door leading somewhere. Or anything standing as an entryway.  
That room seemed plain closed. No doors. No trapdoors... No vents.  
Only the grey concrete.  
When he used to be sequestrated somewhere, there were at least shadows if not darkness.  
Here there wasn't any identifiable lightsource. He could see clearly, but there were no shadows. Not even under his chair, nor under the metal table screwed to the floor in front of him, or the other chair behind it. Not on the ceiling either. Where did the light come from ? 

He chose to ignore what didn't make sense and store under ''magic'', along with everything that made no sense, like God and monsters. No, there really wasn't anything new there. Except magic. But he really couldn't do anything about it, so no point in overthinking.  
He just had to keep calm and carry on.  
He knew they were going to question him at some point.  
They were only waiting, leaving him on his own, to build pressure.  
He knew the tricks. He practiced them. He's been trained to face them.  
So he waited patiently.  
The lack of shadows or visible doors was quite unsettling, but he forced himself to accept it as it was and not think too hard about it. Yet, it was quite difficult when the air itself questioned his sanity, making him feel like he was in a tomb... He hadn't ever been claustrophobic before, yet the impossibly closed place made some latent anxiety slowly creep up his spine.  
So he had closed his eyes, to not see the absence of shadows. To not see the lack of doors. To not feel trapped in a way he hadn't imagined possible before monsters surfaced.  
And he breathed evenly.

Some time passed. He knew by experience that trying to keep count of time was only going to unnerve him. So he made breathing exercises he learnt when he once tried to better himself. Before he gave up on being a decent person, to just be true to his nature. Ironically enough, meditating served him well to keep control of himself, and it came in very handy right at the moment.  
After some time, he heard the sound of a door creaking open. The kind of sound old hinges of wooden doors made, in very old houses. It sounded a bit like the entry door to his childhood house, oddly enough. That wasn't a comforting sound, quite the opposite, but he brushed the uneasiness off in favor of a more useful information : he had been wrong. There was a door he didn't see.  
He didn't open his eyes. He didn't turn around. He only listened as he heard quiet footsteps and odd clicking sounds walking up behind him. Then, he felt the bond around his wrists and ankles loosen suddenly.  
He opened his eyes out of startlement, but didn't look up. He brought his hands back in front of him and rubbed them absentmindedly, focusing on the new presence. The footsteps and odd clicking sounds walked past him and around the table.  
When he heard the chair being pulled and someone heavily sitting on it with more of those clicking noise, he looked up.

A skeleton.

As he saw that, he registered it as a fact and didn't question it further. He laid back in his chair and took a relaxed composure.

That didn't bode well for him. Skeletons weren't common monsters, and the only skeletons he ever heard about were the Blues Brothers, heads of one of the most influent branch of the Monster's Syndycate, the Ice Chapter (why was it called Ice, he had no idea). Now which one of the brothers was it ? He had heard that the tall one was the most dangerous, known for his violent outbursts and odd sense of honor. This one didn't look tall. In fact he might be a few inches shorter than him, but he wasn't really short himself.  
So, he must be the other brother, the large one. He did look rather roundish, almost heavy, his bones way thicker than any human bones, giving off the absurd impression he was buff. There wasn't a lot of rumors about him ; he was usually seen accompanying his brother, but no one ever witnessed him taking part in a fight. He was rumored to be the brain of the duo.  
Naturally. The one doing the questioning had to be the clever, mysterious one. The one he couldn't know what to expect from... If his memory wasn't playing tricks on him, his name was Serif (monsters all had odd, absurd names). But that's all he knew about him.

The monster gazed him up and down; he had to admit, the skeleton looked a bit intimidating. To most people he met, he must even be truly terrifying. Two red pinpoints of eyelights piercing his bottomless eyesockets, that seemed to read his very soul, and his teeth... Sharky fangs glistening with mirth in an unwavering smirk that plastered his skull. One glimpsed with gold at the corner of his smile. Fancy.  
He had other pieces of gold on him, confirming the rumors that monsters were all sitting on a pile of gold : golden rings on each of his thick bony fingers, a big gold chain hanging loosely around his neckbones... classic gang member style. Even a bit tacky. Other than the gold, no doubt real, the rest of his attire seemed rather poor : stuffy black jacket, red shirt stained with grease. In all, he was rather ridiculous looking ; but his lack of taste didn't make him any less of a threat at the moment, as well as an obviously rich prick.  
The man felt intrigued, and almost flattered, that of all monsters in the Syndicate, Serif was the one that was about to question him. No matter the taste in style, no matter the lack of intel he had about him, there was no doubt that skeleton was strong and powerful ; and not just because he managed to look buff despite being all bones. He could feel it ; his very presence felt heavy in the atmosphere. But maybe that was just a trick of the air. The air of that room had felt odd from the beginning, and after spending some time alone there, the skeleton was taking all his attention. But, trick or not, the man could feel in his guts that the monster in front of him was dangerous.

Despite the situation, he felt excitment boiling within. He was about to see what that infamous, though notoriously mysterious prick could do; and more than that, he was about to give him a challenge.  
The monster kept oggling him for several long seconds, and the man controled his demeanor not to betray his real state of mind ; no matter how exciting the prospect of being confronted to him was, he had to keep clearheaded. He never had been directly confronted to a monster on one-on-one before, and having what could be called a 'boss' as his first clearly wasn't to his advantage; especially in this situation. Eventually, the skeleton parted his jaws and-

-yawned.

Then he reached to the floor at his side and retrieved a pillow he apparently brought with, and put it on the table, before laying his skull on and close his eyesockets.  
He even readjusted his position a few times before relaxing completely.  
…  
He started snoring.

The man had no idea what that monster had in mind. Letting him loose. Alone in the same room.  
Why give him back his freedom of movement? Where was the trick?  
The skeleton probably wanted to prove a point. By napping in front of him while he could move, he showed that he didn't take him as a threat.  
It was a bit insulting, honestly. The man had had caused load of victims when he was a soldier, and as a mob he had quite the bodycount, too. But he never had killed any monster yet ; never had the opportunity. The scums were generally cautious and fled when they were too disadvantaged, and never wandered alone. Dust spreads were a surprisingly rare thing, though it happened sometimes. When it happened, though, dust was always soaked with blood.  
Killing him right here right now as he had lowered his guard was tempting, but he had to be smart, not reckless. He didn't survive war, torture, and his family by being a reckless idiot. He didn't need to test out his intuition to know that this boss wasn't going to be an easy kill, especially not in this bizarre room.  
Truth be told, even if the man could stand his ground in a fight, he probably wasn't any match to this guy there. Even if he were, he had to think of what to do next. Even if he put him down, how many more would come here to spill his blood? He had to focus on finding a way to escape, not to die. He had heard a door creaking open when the prick came in, so he just had to find it and manage to open it.  
He turned around to have a real, more accurate look of his surrounding.  
There wasn't any mirror or anything covering the walls, or any visible device of any sort.  
He couldn't be sure he was truly alone with him, though. Magic could make impossible things, like lighting a room without leaving a single shadow, or blow someone up without explosives.  
He turned his attention back on the sleeping skeleton.

Well, he seemed sleepy at least. He clearly heard his steady breath, low, and deep. He didn't question why a skeleton would produce snoring sounds, or even need to breathe.  
He couldn't know if he was faking or not.  
But, since he could move again, he decided he might as well test things out.  
He stretched, first while sitting, in case the pile of bones woke back up. Then, once his muscles were ready, he stood up slowly, without a sound.  
The skeleton didn't budge.  
The man walked then carefully to the side of the room.  
He didn't want to get close to the sleeping monster yet.  
There must be a door he didn't see. A door kept hidden to make him think he was in a tomb. He pushed the creeping claustrophobia away by focusing on the task, and keeping the hidden door in mind. There was a door. He had to find it.  
He searched the walls. Knocked on them. Brushed them.  
As he kept his inspection going, he grew bolder, since apparently the skeleton was asleep deeply enough to allow him to proceed without waking up. Or maybe he simply allowed it. That was more plausible. He wouldn't have untied him if he didn't expect him to stand up and walk around. Again, he probably just wanted to prove a point. And that was up to the prisoner to figure out what exactly.  
So he busied himself looking for anything helpful, any detail that could give him hints of what shitty situation he was stuck in.  
Vainly. There wasn't any frame or accessible mechanism. He didn't find any device that might allow someone to supervise them. Not even under his chair. The ceiling was low enough to allow him to give it similar inspection he gave the walls and floor, by standing on the chair. Nothing.

He breathed evenly. 'Questioning' hadn't even started yet, he couldn't freak out already. Sure, that place looked like a tomb. But it was all dramatic scenery, a trick. The monster came from somewhere and came in by some entryway. All of this, the heavy air, the weird light, the concrete- everything was made to pressure him. It was obvious. He had to give them credit, they did a good job finding this place. Or maybe they even built it ? Whatever. He wasn't going to fall for their tricks, as creative and clever as they were, even if magical. He had faced more threatening before; and if they happened to be more threatening than that, he would adapt. If magic made that a huge difference, he would still figure a way out. He would survive this, no matter what.  
The only places he hadn't inspected yet were the table, the monster's chair... And the monster himself.

He reflected on his options. He really didn't have a lot of them. There was nothing here. No way out; and if the room was truly completely sealed, then there would be a time he would run short of air- he blocked that trail of thought and focused.  
He felt a drop of sweat beading on his fronthead.  
That skeleton probably didn't even need to breathe. Yet, he seemed to do it as he snored quietly. It was a feint, wasn't it ? From the start, he was fully awake, and was studiously surveying him.  
For the first time in a long time, the man felt like being trapped in a lion's den. With the lion soundly asleep.  
He closed his eyes again and breathed deep. His heart rate calmed down. Focus. Don't think of anything you don't need to be thinking about. There was a way out ; he came in here somehow, then it meant he could get out.  
The situation sure was way different than anything he had been trained to face. But so was life. The most important was to adapt. He had been adapting his whole life. And there was a way out.  
He managed to convince himself of that and focused on the task at hand.

He took careful steps towards the monster.  
He heard a lot of things about his kin, though most of it were probably unfounded rumors. Most of their abilities remained a mystery, but he knew that a human better not be messing with monsters if he could avoid it. Especially monster mobs. Especially boss monster mobs.  
He couldn't be sure the monster in front of him was an actual boss, but monsters didn't place whiny pissers at the head of their chapters. And they wouldn't leave a monster alone with a human known for his violence if said monster wasn't able to face it.  
Even asleep, he could be dangerous. The man had faced so many dangers before. That one was new.  
A smile tried to creep up his face, chasing the anxiety; but he breathed to calm himself down again. He couldn't afford to get carried away.  
He took another step forward, then another.  
By the time he reached the table, he was calm and composed. He even took a closer look of the skeleton. He seemed... relaxed., as far as he could read a skull's facial expression. The prick really didn't consider him a threat, did he?  
The man couldn't be sure he was really sleeping, but he couldn't do mush else than getting back to his inspection.  
He crouched to take a look at the table's underside. No devices. He would have to manually inspect it to be sure, so he started petting the legs and the underside of the metal piece of furniture. The inspection was more difficult as he didn't want to touch the monster's legs... leg bones by accident. 

He noted he was wearing sports short and untied runners. That wasn't constructive observation, but anything might be helpful, at this point... He looked at his untied shoelaces again.  
This reminded him of childhood, when he used to prank people with a friend. Good times.  
His friend used to do all the silly pranks in the book ; shedding sparkles on someone's clothes, writing 'out of order' on vending machines, water bucket on door, putting an egg in a shoe, tying shoelaces together...  
He had lost this friend, when he grew over stupid silly pranks like those. Calling them tame. He had so many ideas of better pranks.  
Like shedding cat's fur on someone's clothes. Sticking cat's bones in vending machines. Cat blood buckets on doors. Put a cat's heart into a shoe. Replacing the shoelaces by bloody cat's guts. Throw the remains of the cat in someone's closet -so many uses of a single cat-.  
His friend hadn't appreciated his inventivity. Calling him a freak.  
He hadn't appreciated being called a freak, and had beated him up.  
Then he had friends no more, only his introvert pussy of a younger brother to prank, and he never had been any fun to prank. But he had only him, so he made of him his number one priority... and he eventually grew to be his favorite person in the world. So long as he had him, he wasn't alone, and wasn't bored.  
But even if he had him, it wasn't enough.  
All that because he had refused to keep on doing stupid, tame pranks like tying people's shoelaces together.  
He shook his head ; now was not the time to dwell on the past, especially this far, far away past that didn't mean anything anymore. The idea stuck in his mind though as he started to leave the non-shadow of the table, and he suddenly turned back. He wouldn't be able to focus on anything else if he didn't do it. So he carefully picked the untied laces of both shoes and delicately tied them together ; loosely enough that when adjusting his seat the monster may not notice anything, but in a way that would make the knot tighten when the feet would part from each other.  
The man couldn't help but smirk, looking at his work. He hadn't lost the trick. As powerful as that monster was, there was no way he could see that coming.  
…  
He scowled, ashamed to possibly balance his whole life on a stupid prank.  
He touched the knot, but flinched when the monster moved. He stopped. The skeleton was still snoring.  
The man released the breath he didn't notice he was holding. Looked like he would have greater trouble trying to untie the shoelaces than he had tying them. So he gave up on trying to fix this obvious mistake and moved on, as the professional, serious veteran he was.

Now time for the chair ; he got out from under the table and silently walked around it to get behind the monster, and crouched to look at his chair's underside. Nothing. He carefully, slowly pat the underside, feeling like he was giving a light buttslap to the skeleton. Hopefully, the monster didn't wake up at that instant. If there were an actual video device filming everything, he wouldn't like to watch the scene. As he expected, nothing was hidden.  
Well. There might as well be something on the chair the monster was sitting on, but if he really was just bones, it might not bother him... But it wasn't like he could check that out.  
He stood back up. The only other thing he didn't try yet was to search the monster's pockets, but he really didn't trust his stealth abilities -well, beyond tying his shoelaces- so he might as well dust the monster in his sleep first.

As he stood behind the skeleton, he braced himself, and thought.  
He hadn't had the opportunity to kill one of those creatures before. His gang was in rivalry with this monster's chapter, and fights between them would erupt quite often, but he had personally never dusted one of them yet. Not that he really cared about keeping count, or making achievements to the eye of the mobs. He didn't have anything to prove to anyone. The only problem here is that he didn't have anything to murder him with, and that after doing it, he would still be stuck there. But, he really didn't have anything else to do. If attempting to murder him could at least push the skeleton to act and do something, get it on with it, then it was a win. … Sort of.  
He thought about the shoe laces, then brushed it off and pat his belt, considering it as his only potential weapon. Had the demon been covered in flesh, he would have tried to strangle him. But as he was made of bones, that didn't seem a smart option. Besides, strangling required strength and time. Did he want to give that monster time to react and use whatever magic it had ? Maybe that wasn't a smart move. But then again, killing the only one in the room who knew how to get out of there, wasn't smart. He still could as well try and see what happens.  
So, if he overlooked the obvious stupidity of murdering him, practicality asked that he killed him in one hit instead of relying on a taxing method he wasn't sure would work ; this was not a situation to have fun. -He certainly did not have fun tying his shoelaces together. Nope.-  
So he only had his own hands. And a chair.  
He walked around the table to grab his chair. It wasn't too light, it might do. Or he might use only a leg, but he didn't have any tool other than his raw strength to disassemble it.  
As he was weighing his options, holding his chair, a sudden noise rang.

A ringtone.

He watched the monster groan and lazily move to fish his cellphone in his jacket pocket.

Damn. Too late to attempt to murder him, now. It wasn't a smart idea anyway, but he couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of disappointment. He put the chair back on the floor, keeping his eyes on the sleepy skeleton.  
The monster wasn't hurrying to answer, yawning before checking who was calling. Then he groaned again and answered, bringing the phone to his... acoustic meatus.

''yup, boss.''

His voice was deep and gravelly, the kind of voice that flowed well on the radio. He eyed his standing prisoner, laying back in his seat, listening to the -audibly loud- voice on the other end.

''yup'. mhm. … 'f course. … eh, nope. nuthin' so far.''

He rolled his eyelights and held his phone away from his skull, casting a bored glare to the human. The voice on the other end screamed even louder, though the man couldn't make out the words, if there were any. After a few seconds it seemed to calm down and the skeleton brought the phone back against his skull.

''well, ya know, tha human is tough an' all tha'. he's got... spine.'' He snickered, holding the phone away for a short time as his boss screamed again, then resumed talking : ''whaaaa' ? naaaah i wasn't napin' why would ya think tha' ? … ya can't prove it. tha human's just tough. patience is-''

His 'boss' ranted a full minute more before the skeleton finally answered:

''ok, fine... seeya boss.''

He hung up the phone and sighed, pinching and massaging his noseridge as he closed his apparently sore eyesockets.

''did sum exercise, human ? had a walk around er sumthin' ?''

No point in lying about it. He was still standing up after all. He shrugged as an answer.

''good fer ya. now sit down, we gotta talk.''

Finally things were getting a bit more familiar. He was about to sit when suddenly the chair was pulled away behind him. He fell on his rear, cursing, but when he turned around, no one was there holding the chair. It just had slid on its own up to the wall ; and he knew very well there wasn't any string, he had inspected everything.  
The monster chuckled. 

''heh heh heh, sorry, sorry. couldn't help myself.''

With a simple hand gesture of the monster, the chair slid back up to the prisoner. The man looked at him with mild interest ; so apparently he could move things without touching them. Good to know.  
After an odd start, the encounter finally was getting back on normal tracks, so he slid back into his professional composure, keeping his face neutral as he sat on the chair, not commenting the stupid action in any way.

''would've put a whoopie cushion, but a jerk destroyed mine long ago. so...''

Really, what was that skeleton? A mob or a stupid prankster? Couldn't he be more professional?

The man hid his annoyance, as he almost looked forward to things to get serious. As it is, he couldn't take that skeleton seriously, and that made him dangerously lower his guard. As ridiculous as the monster was, he couldn't afford to underestimate him.  
Said dangerous mobster produced a fat, expensive looking cigar from his jacket pocket and brought it to his fangs. He lit it with nothing but a flick of his finger. The man noted he could maybe use fire. He could imagine a few use of burning hot fingers during questioning: no need of white hot iron.  
The skeleton pulled a long drag out of it, and smoke soon exhaled from his nose hole and eyesockets, blurring the ambers fixated on his prisoner. 

Dramatic effect. The man almost snorted.

The monster remained silent for a while. The prisoner held his gaze with a deadpan glare.  
The air soon smelled of smoke as the eery blueish arabesques curled around the monster, giving him an surreal aura.  
The pressure the human almost forgot about returned. The feeling of being trapped in a room out of his world. Where light made no sense. And if light made no sense, why would anything else.  
He brushed that feeling off. He had something to focus on.  
The skeleton blew a cloud of smoke to his face. Classical villain move, but it had the merit to knock his uneasiness out of him.  
He didn't faze, breathing through the smoke without much reaction other than blinking away the slight itch. To classical villain move, classical manly reaction.  
The monster ashed off his fat expensive cigar directly on the table, laying an elbow on it to get closer to his prisoner, in a laidback attitude that really wasn't going to make him any more intimidating.

Then, silence again filled the empty room.  
This was getting annoying. But if that monster wanted to put up with a staring contest, he'd have his contestant. The man was alright with staying silent and glaring at him to no end.  
Eventually the skeleton broke the heavy silence with his rolling voice.

''didn't lie to boss : yer real tough.''

He resumed the staring contest for a few more long seconds before talking again:

''anyways...''

The skeleton pushed the pillow down to the floor, while producing a file out of... apparently under the table, but the man knew there wasn't anything there before. The monster dropped negligently the file on the table, and a few reports slipped out of it. The human barely looked at them, keeping all his attention on the monster.

''a few nasty stuff on yer childhood record, animal abuse, drug usage, the classic. yer not a bright student an' find yer place in the military, an' even tho yer sent on da battlefield to kill er be killed, it kinda saved ya in a way. ya spend five years serving yer country like a hero ya are, accumulatin' several impressive feats to yer score, but troubles with yer comrades an' officers lead ya to resign. back home, ya dun find no supportive family, no great wad o' cash either. 's hard ta get a new job: military past means mental issues, add this to yer criminal record and bam, ya make a very untrustworthy, unreliable piece of shit that won't do no good to any business ya work for. 'specially yer face, damn. ya look like a bald, hairless serial killer. but then again, ya were in tha military, so ya did kill people. damn if those had been monsters, ya'd had a shitton o' LV.''

The man frowned. Wait. Wrong setting. What was even that file ? If the skeleton wanted to play cops, he might consider not be part of a gang. Either be a cop, or a mob. Not both. Was that his signature method ? Was he playing Sheriff ? … Serif. Heh heh.  
He held back a snicker, keeping his composure. Why telling him his resume though? Build more pressure, showing that he knew everything about him? That kind of move usually was used only later in questioning. He wasn't sure what he meant by 'LV', but he assumed that was monster jargon for kills. The man didn't interrupt though, as the skeleton kept going:

''an' what kind o' business hires pieces o' shit like you ? mafia. ya have a military trainin' but no code of moral er undying love fer justice, an' poverty quickly comes kickin' at yer door. either ya become a mercenary, or a gang member. there's plenty o' gangs, not a lot o' mercenary jobs. ya dun take long to join a gang, an' gain rep by beatin' da shit outta tough rival mobs, gettin' as far as ta kill some o' them... an' dat's only fer the kills that count in yer score. there's plenty more ya performed only fer da kick o' adrenaline, the challenge o' the hunt, that no one linked to ya yet.''

He slipped some pictures out of the file ; pictures of violent murders the veteran committed. Violent murders he had been careful to destroy any accusatory evidences of. The skeleton then laid back on his seat, looking smug as if his performance was anything impressive.

''an' here ye are now.''

The man resumed his deadpan glare. Wow. Did he think having his resume was going to impress him ? Granted, the part about the various murders he committed on his spare time wasn't common knowledge, and that file might as well come from an actual drawer in a real police office, but it wasn't that impressive. Now, why he would make actual research about him was the question. If he knew so much about him, he probably knew this wouldn't scare him.

''i won't lie, i'm impressed. i mean, if ya weren't already taken, i might've wanted ya in my ranks. yer not afraid ta kill, yer not afraid ta hurt... damn, ya even look at me straight in the eyesockets an' ya don' even faze. not to brag, but i'm quite the intimidatin' type fer humans. ya can see why.... no? skeleton. death. walking dead. necromancy, all that bullshit. whatever, yer obviously not impressed. ya know death when ya see it. ya dun see it in me... i bet ya see it in da mirror.''

So, that was his plan ? Flatter his ego and promise him a job in exchange of betraying his gang?  
Now the skeleton was laying forward on the table to speak closer to his face.

''ya revel in violence. do ya miss da battlefield so hard that, even if ya wouldn't need da money, ya'd risk yer life with thugs? say, are they anything like those kids sacrificin' themselves in war for freedom, happiness 'n capitalism? 'n yer victims... are they anything like the terrorists ya used ta bombard? an' dat's not even talkin' 'bout yer hobby... all healthy, strong, powerful males that couldn't've been easy ta kill. yer huntin' fer the sport.''

He didn't react, choosing to stay silent. He still wasn't sure where he was going with this bad cop act; but there was nothing he was ashamed of in his resume. So he wouldn't break eyecontact. 

''as i say. yer tough... can't pry yer mind open to fish yer secrets.''

He laid back on his chair again, sighing and, with a bored tone, said :

''so, think 'bout it, 'n tell me what ya'd like ta eat fer yer last meal.''

The man startled. ''What ?''

''eh, now ya talk ? last meal. isn't that what ya guys do, when, yaknow. one's sentenced ta death ? they can ask fer whatever they want for their last meal. so they die on a full stomach.''

The human looked at him in bewilderment. Was he serious ?  
He couldn't read his face very well, but everything seemed to tell he was very serious.  
So... that was it ? It couldn't be it. 

''… You're fucking with me.''

''heh, nope. yer not my type.''

''You're fucking pulling my leg.''

''i could do tha', an' flyin' ya around. but it's too much effort.''

''That can't be it.''

''why not ?''

''Because you're a fucking monster mob. You have unimaginable tricks up your sleeves. You could use all the tricks in the books-''

''like what ?''

The fucker seemed amused. Fine. The man tried to stay calm as anger started to boil in his guts. That kind of unprofessional behavior triggered him. That skeleton was taking him as a joke, something that wasn't even worth trying. It was insulting, humiliating... But he kept cool. He only took a deep breath. Well. Since the monster didn't seem to understand the principle of torture, the man would gladly give him a lesson:

''Oh, I dunno. Exposing various tools of pain you'd intent to use on my body and explain how it works, for example.''

''ye already know all o' them. 'm pretty sure ya even researched the medieval tools o' long an' insufferable death, ya freak.''

''Curiosity ain't freaky. Whatever, you have magic.''

''yeah? what about tha'?''

''Well! Can't you use some spells that makes me spit all my guts to you?''

''heh heh. are ya askin' fer it, kid ? 'm not interested in cleanin' yer mess behind me. i could make you spit yer guts aight, but it's too much work. an' if it's magic ya want, look around. 's there nuthin' buggin' ya ?''

Exasperated, the human took a glance around, too angry to realise his newfound claustrophobia was shortening his temper, and then resumed glaring at the skeleton. 

''So what?''

''see? ya dun' even process magic. when it's there all around, ya just shove it aside an' think 'bout somethin' else. yer not interesting to toy with.''

''… I can't believe you wouldn't even consider using your... unimaginable powers creatively.''

''now, now. ya really wanna have a taste of magic induced pain ? ya dun wanna, just, ask fer a nice meal, eat it, then face death peacefully ? i'd do this quick'n clean.''

''Well, no. Surprisingly enough, I don't want to die, dude.''

''welp, simple enough. spit it out. ya know what i wanna know.''

The man scoffed.

''I'm not a rat. I don't snitch, you'd have to make me-''

''then, it's settled. ya choose death.''

''That ain't no fucking questioning, it's an ultimatum !''

''what's the difference ?''

''Duh. If you want your prisoner to speak, you must let him think that he has a way out.''

''ya have a way out. spill da beans.''

''No, but- let him think he will survive either way. If you bring up death from the start, he won't be cooperative. You've got to break him, piece by piece, and he's gotta think he's in forever. You've gotta make him have a glimpse of Hell, make him think that it can last forever, and that the only way to stop it is to tell you what he knows. Death is far too definitive, it gives an escape to Hell, you must keep him on the edge, where he still has hope to live, but where death is also looming close by. If it's just death, it doesn't work !''

''welp, thanks fer the lesson on how to be a real monster, kid. wow, and ya guys say we are the demons, heh.''

''So ?''

''heh. nah. as i said, too much work.''

He couldn't stand this.  
It wasn't just that the situation was out of control; he was the prisoner, he was expecting his control to be limited. But he expected to have at least the opportunity to use that thin control he had over himself to get a chance to give that monster a challenge. He wouldn't give in without a fight!  
It's just- that skeleton was- it wasn't fair.  
He could suffer torture. He could face death.  
But not just... that.  
That was just. Insulting. Humiliating. Infuriating.  
Fury boiled inside him and he stopped being rational.  
He stood up and loomed over the table in a threatening manner.

''If you want a real lesson about pain and fear, I can give you one. Never have I ever played with just bones before... I wonder just how hard they are, and how easy they would break.''

The skeleton snorted.

''D'you think your dust could make nice porcelain ? I bet some chinese prick would pay lots of cash for a pile of magical monster-based coke.''

The skeleton laughed. That was just adding insult to injury. What was he, a clown? The skeleton treated him like a little boy trying to impress his teacher, and succeeding in just making a fool of himself.

''I heard monster dust made a fine flour for bakery.''

Laughing hard, the skeleton nodded.  
Was he really confirming it ? Did monsters actually use monster dust as flour ? Wasn't that cannibalism ? Those barbaric demons.

''I could take your hand-''

''so romantic.'' The human internally cringed at that, which only fueled his rage further.

''-and dislodge your phalanges and carpals, one by one...''

''kinky.''

He felt blood hammering at his temp. He had no problem with any sort of sexuality, unless it was used to humiliate and mock him. That skeleton couldn't possibly know anything about it anyway, he was just bones, and he thought he knew better than him??  
That was it? That skeleton really was going to brush off anything with a joke? Denying him the right to prove himself in front of death, denying him one last fight, one last shot of pleasurable adrenaline? Denying him the right to be treated as the man he is?  
He slammed the table in frustration and fury, ready to spit his rage, when the monster cut him off.

''n' how would ya do all tha', human? you gotta restrain me, an' make sure i can't fight back. how'd you submit me, in yer condition?''

Along with trying to reason him, the monster placatingly raised a hand.

''look. no doubt yer good at this game, when ya play with humans. but, it doesn't work here. there's nuthin' ya can threat er force me with. now tryin' an' insistin's just childish.''

To hell with that. Now the human was pissed, especially because the monster was right. He felt ridiculous, but it only pissed him off more. No matter the consequences, he lunged for the skeleton, jumping over the table-  
A force knocked him out of breath, pinning him violently back to his chair which should have fell over with the force, but was held still somehow. His chest heaved hard, catching back his breath.  
The skeleton took some time to calm down his chuckle, sighing.

''ya really wanna get smashed so bad? why. ya like pain? 's not a masochist thing, is it? i thought masochists need ta bond trust with their partners, er sumthin', since they keep pushin' da limits an' all tha'. ain't no good if pain's really meant to harm.''

He took another drag of his cigar.

''now, harmful pain er pleasant pain, 's all same to me; 's too much work. an' yer really not my type anyway. not that i dislike yer company; in fact, i'm rather happy to use ya as an excuse to slack off, since ya dun snitch no matter the torture. but boss wants this over with, so... last meal.''

His tone was calm and collected, stating things matter-of-factly, with no real mockery behind. He was midly amused, but truly not that all interested.  
The veteran tried to fight the force back, by standing up, but the pressure increased and he felt like collapsing under his own weigh. Simply resisting gravity, resisting to not let his body be reduced to shreds, took all his might.  
Hopefully, the pressure subsided. He inhaled sharply, his heart beating a mile a minute. The skeleton didn't bother talking, not before the man was sat and somewhat composed, breathing evenly despite his heart still beating like a crazed machine.

''so. what will it be. burger? hot dogs? fish'n chips? salad?''

Time to try and push some buttons. He couldn't give in, it was unthinkable. There had to be a way to get his way... 

''Your cock.''

The human spat. Usually, gay stuff would unsettle thugs enough that they'd snap back. The skeleton, however, only snickered.

''nice one. askin' fer the impossible ain't gonna delay the inevitable. if ya dun' die by my hand, ya'd die outta asphyxia. ya already breathed a good portion o' oxygen, i dun' think you got more than an hour left. that is, if ya stay calm an' composed. if ya panic it will only get faster.''

The skeleton took another drag of his cigar. He surely had less than an hour, calm or not, if that bastard kept ruining the air with his smoke.

''so. what will it be ? ya choose a good meal an' eat, er ya wanna waste yer last moment on earth suffocatin' just ta try ta spite me ?... if ya choose da latter, pal, i'll admit yer a determined kinda troll. but there's nuthin' much ya can do to troll me, except toyin' with yer own life. an' even tha', i dun' really care. it's fer ya that it makes a difference. in all, choosin' suffocation over a meal makes less work fer me... more nappin' at work.''

The human took some time to think. There had to be a way to push him to hit him. To make him test out his resilience, just like he just did with the invisible force. If he could do that again...  
A detail in the monster's speech struck him.

''Impossible ?''

''wha' ?''

''You said your cock was impossible ?''

''i told ya 'bout suffocatin' ta death an' the only thing yer worried about' is my love bone? duuude. i dunno if it's flattering er cringy.''

Time to try some bluff. He was quite good at bluffing, and it always took people off guard. He didn't look like the kind to bluff his way out of things, which made him a great bluffer. He chose to show some fake vulnerability -though some of it came from latent, real vulnerabilities-.

''Look, I won't lie, I have trouble thinking straight. Maybe it's the air. Maybe it's magic-'' he gave the monster a look when that skull cocked its browbones suggestively ''-but I can't help but bugging over anything that doesn't make sense. I tried overlooking nonsensical stuff and focusing on what really matter, but now that you give me an ultimatum, I just can't- everything's coming back to me-''

''a'ight, aight. stars take pity on ya ; i'm gonna explain sum mystery, if that can help. an' that one's easy enough.''

He opened his arms, gesturing at himself.

''i'm a skeleton. i dun hav' genitals. now i can make some by magic if need be, but i really, really dun wanna give in the effort to make ya a cock. even fer yer last wish.''

He laid his shoulders on the table.

''mystery solved. now, whaddya wanna eat ? i'm hungry. there's a bar that makes da best grub in town-''

''Your cock.''

The skeleton huffed, then fished back his cell phone, pretending to browse on internet.

''aight. gonna check fer any french cook in town...''

''What french cook ?''

''how'dya think i can find a _cock au vin._ '' He snorted.

The man was genuinely confused by the monster's laidback demeanor, and infuriated that he couldn't raise a reaction. He kept on insisting, thinking that this could lead somewhere if he persisted.

''I'm not askin for some french cock, i'm asking for your boner.''

''why are ya bein' so insistant on tha'? what's wrong with ya, dude? ya do realise doin' me a sexual favor won't save ya? i dun even wan' it. told ya, i won't do ya-''

''I can make you.''

With a smirk the human started standing up; as expected, he felt the pressure on him again, but lighter than before. A warning.

''if ya hav' a taste fer gravity, pal, i can throw ya aroun' a bit... wait.''

The monster took away his cellphone, narrowing his eyesockets at his prisoner.

''is tha' yer super plan ? pushin' my buttons to try an' make me throw ya aroun', so ya'd die fightin' like a virile man ? seriously ?''

He chuckled. The pressure on the man didn't leave, inscreasing ever so slightly and pushing him back down on his seat, almost gently. He sighed.

''You got me. What are you gonna do about it ?''

''i dun' understand human's love fer violence... yeah, ya can snort, i know how it sounds comin' from me. but there's a difference between necessary violence and chosen violence over alternatives. i'm offerin' ya to go peacefully. instead ya wanna go in pain. i dun' get it. is mercy that much of an insult...?''

He seemed to ponder his own words. This kind of speech sounded off from his shark-like monster grin. If he thought the prisoner didn't see right through his bluff... The man snorted.

''What ? You wanna get philosophical with me now ? Do me a favor, show me mercy: let me die as a warrior.''

He didn't like how desperation transpired in his voice. He sounded like begging, even though he worded that like a challenge. He wanted to die in a hunt. Die feeling danger creeping in, not an abstract danger like air, but a personified danger like an powerful opponent. Like a monster. He wanted to be put down in a fight, be it fighting against his own intolerable pain. He wanted to make that skeleton break a sweat, if skeletons could sweat. Giving the immense gap of power between them, that would count as a victory.  
But now it was the skeleton's cue to snort, mocking his resolve.

''warrior? yer no warrior. a warrior fights fer a greater cause, fer others; they don't choose their victims, they just do what they have to in order to protect what they cherish. granted, one could argue that it changes nuthin', in the end, a warrior kills just like any murderer. you, however. yer a fool, who revels in violence, in inflicting pain and death to others with a delusional sense of fairplay in choosing yer preys amongst the fittest, just fer challenge. ya protect nuthin'. ya kill fer no one but yer own pleasure. yer no warrior; yer a piece of shit.''

The human laughed. 

''So much for showing mercy, right, monster?''

The skeleton looked... honestly it was hard to read his face, but he did emote something. The human didn't have time to rub it in what he assumed was a sore spot, when the skeleton relented:

''right. Frisk knows i've never been good at mercy anyway.''

The skeleton sighed and rubbed his cigar butt on the metal table. The man had always found odd the near-religious love for their child ambassador the most violent kind of monsters showed, going as far to swear on their name like they were some sort of messiah. Frisk wasn't even a monster, thought admitedly freaky at times. But who else than a freak would lead such despicable kin on earth and claim they deserve to live?

''ok, pal, ya win. i give ya an other choice.''

The pressure on the veteran suddenly increased, but remained tolerable. Things were finally getting serious... and it would last. At least enough to make him muster all his strength of will to resist and fight back. Excitement grew within him as he easily resisted the force pinning him down on his chair.

''what's it gonna be? die out of suffocation, er gravity?''

''I'm not even crushed, dude. You can do better.''

''i'm not tryna crush ya, bud. if i were, ya'd be in a puddle o' yer own flesh, all yer bones broken. an' i still wanna leave da choice to ya. i will maintain yer gravity at this intensity; ya'll feel like ya can take it, but slowly, yer organism will start dysfunctioning, everythin' slowly goin' south 'til ya shit yer own organs. that is, if ya dun' turn short of air first.''

The man had literally asked for this. He couldn't help sweating a little... from exhilaration. That. That was the kind of twisted, wicked use of maddening magic he had always fantasized monsters using. Something truly terrifying. More so than the place itself, his tomb, that wasn't nearly as terrifying now that he was determined to really die in there if need be.  
Anything could be a tool of pain and death, if used with imagination. A simple spoon could deal its fair share of suffering, so gravity-based magic? He couldn't stand a chance, he wasn't that stupid as to believe he could survive this. But he could die with a taste of victory, if only he managed to make that skeleton snap, break a sweat, anything that proved the man a challenge.  
But minutes ticked by and the skeleton didn't seem any bit tired.  
His smugness and confidence eventually dropped with the rest of his blood, rushing to the bottom of his feet. They started to ache.

''i'll be easy on ya... i won't let ya use yer air too fast ; ya know why boss'n i are called 'blues brothers'? 's because o' blue magic. 's our main tool, we use it all da time. d'ya know 'bout blue magic ?''

A huge bone surged from the ground under the veteran. He tensed, but the blue glowing bone fazed through him. It was a huge tibia-like magical glowy thing that stood on the ground and arrived under the man's chin, and it was as thick as his torso. He held his breath, but as nothing happened and the gravity slightly lightened, he scoffed-

And winced.

''apparently ya don't. blue magic means stop. it fazes through its target, but if said target doesn't move, it doesn't deal any damage er pain. if ya move though... it stings.''

The human controlled his breathing; more sweat beaded on his fronthead. Not moving? He could do. He was already pinned on his chair anyway, what trouble would that be to keep still?  
He experimented a bit by laying back to get as comfortable as he could.  
It did sting. Hard.  
He screamed as the pain lingered long after he stopped moving. And then he had to control his breathing, because the very movement of his chest hurt.  
Feeling like getting out of breath, he forced himself to limit the movements of his chest.

''told ya.''

Sure, it stung alright. But compared to the threat of something as universal as gravity, that blue magic seemed rather tame.  
The skeleton sighed again. 

''crap. here i am fer a round, uh? ya can be proud o' yerself, kid. ya make me do my actual job. dat's a feat. even da boss can't make me give up on my lazyness.''

The human managed to chuckle without startling the blue bone.

''You won't get this over with. No matter how long I have, I won't move. It's easy enough. At war, I used to sleep sometimes in the middle of corpses, playing dead. I can keep completely still, for very long... your blue magic? It's crap. Here I thought I was in Hell for a sec, with that gravity thing, and you had to ruin it with that disappointing trick."

''oh... really ?''

The pressure of gravity subsided almost completely, as the blue started to shine progressively brighter, shifting to lighter shades of blue.

''yaknow, life... er, dat's da boring part o' my classic villain speech. so, life. heh, lotsa peeps gave it definitions, sense, and more spent their whole life looking fer them. but life really is just a small thing: it's movement. whenever something's alive, it moves. plants grow. rocks shift. the planet travels in space, revolving 'round the sun revolvin' 'round the galaxy revolvin' 'round the origin o' everytin', followin' da course of existence. animals, humans, monsters... they all move. even when they don't. even when they lay down an' fall in da deepest sleep. even when they play dead.''

It got harder and harder to breathe, even with minimal chest movements.

''ya say ya can be completely still? well, sure ya can stop breathin' fer a while. how long? can ya stop yer heartbeats, can ya freeze the flow of yer blood in yer veins? can ya bring yer brain activity to a stop? if so, then... congrats. ya can be truly still.''

Now the bone had reached the cyan blue and shone even brighter, and the human started to suffocate. His heartbeats went crazy, each beat sending a wave of agony through his body. And as a reaction, his body kept on flinching, and with each nervous flinch an other wave of pain. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Drool slipped out his clenched teeth. He never broke eyecontact with the monster wielding unfathomable power over life itself. He wouldn't give in. He wouldn't!!  
Rage fought against pain within him. He couldn't let his resolve break!  
He kept on for some time, he couldn't know how long. Minutes? ... Seconds?  
He couldn't give in. Even though he naver ever had experience that kind of pain. Not intense in itself, but spread across every layers of skin, muscle, nerves, organs and bones. So wholly present that it merged into one, intense, insufferable pain.  
How strong was his resolve, against the primal instinct of self-preservation?  
How determined he was living the way he lived, if it was for dying so soon? Was the purpose of life to choose the way you die? Was that really how he wanted this to end?  
Questions flying by so quick through his mind that he didn't even process them, let alone answer them.  
The agony continued for several seconds that felt like hours in his fevered fight against his own body.  
Fuck that.  
If staying in place was agonizing, he had to get out of there.  
He fought back everything by suddenly throwing himself to the side, jolting even more pain through his body, in an attempt to get away from the blue bone.  
But the force pinned him back in place, hard enough to make the chair slide a bit. As the man struggled to keep himself together, the blue bone simply reajusted itself to his new position so the most of him was exposed to it.  
This was... Impossible. How could such pain be possible? How was he still aware, conscious? That pain was unbearable but he wouldn't faint to escape it.  
And still, the skeleton didn't show any sign of fatigue. No sign of defeat. He had said that the prisoner had won, but it didn't feel, at all, like a victory. Quite the opposite.  
He would perish in vain, as the pain gnawed at his resolve, shredding it apart like a storm.  
His death was vain. He hadn't proved anything. He had lived the way he liked, but even that was no comfort when his own brain activity was provoking bolts of agony.  
His death was vain. He was defeated.  
His death was vain. His-  
His life was vain.

The moment he felt like falling to the other side, the moment the agony reached its climax, he felt suddenly relieved. Pain didn't exist anymore; his heartbeats stopped. Breath escaped him. On the verge of death, something pulled him back to a familiar, powerful sensation of serenity.  
But he didn't die. Coldness crept in his bones, but after a stretched second of eternity, his breath came back. Heartbeats resumed steadily. He felt pain, but distantly. He kept looking at the skeleton, without so much as an emotion. No, it was more like, he was struck with every emotions existing at the same time and his mind couldn't process them, so he felt numb.  
Was he dead ?  
No he wasn't.  
He felt his heart beat, though slowlier than ever. He even felt his blood rush in his veins. His breath, calm and composed.  
He felt... himself. Thoughts slowly came back to his mind. But he couldn't do much else than just- wait. Wait for the situation to solve itself.

Serif of the Ice Chapter of the Monster Syndicate For Freedom And Equal Rights was glad his face was hardly readable to most humans. Because what he was seeing was astonishing.  
A second before, the human was in agony as he increased his blue bone's sensitivity.  
But, as he stopped the progression at cyan blue, before he would step to the more untolerable whitish shades, the human stopped suffering, snapping from his state of agony to a calm, cold composure... He had expected him to faint at some point. He hadn't control the pain progression so it woulnd't be too much, and the fool had willingly moved to get out of the blue. Which had been, admitedly, a fantastic proof of resilience and instinct. But he didn't expect him to just. Snap as if nothing had happened.  
He considered turning his bone white and end this now.  
But he couldn't help staring as the human just stopped being affected by the blue magic. How could this be? Humans could be terrifyingly adaptative when they truly connected with deeper parts of their souls, but he hadn't witnessed a human get to that level of self-awareness, and gain a resistance to a certain magic from it.  
That human must be a Cyan soul... He checked that, gazing in his eyes and grazing the superficial layers of his soul, just enough to see his color without spending much efforts.  
Even with his superficial check, he could see old scars and cracks littering the soul's surface. And it was, indeed, bright cyan. 

And that sucked. 

With his resume and his heated behavior from earlier, Sans would have bet on Purple or Orange. He inwardly berated himself for not checking it right away, so sure he had him figured out.  
Cyan is... well. He could have waited forever for nuts, and that would have made him a fool. It's a chance the human had pushed him to actually take action.  
Of course now that the had a sort of lightning agonizing epiphanie, he wouldn't be nearly as sensitive to blue magic, more so the shades closest to his soul's.  
He sighed.  
This guy was good. Too bad he had to die.

After a while gazing each other in silence, the skeleton finally sighed. The bone disappeared and with it, the numbed pain. Part of it lingered in some depths of the man's body, but he didn't mind.  
The gravity pressure didn't come back either, but there was no point in standing, now.  
He had relented on pushing the monster. There was no point in trying to die as a warrior, since he had never been a warrior in the first place. He had never believed he was one, anyway. He always considered himself more like a hunter; but even that didn't mean anything now. The fact that he would die either way was already a proof of his defeat against stronger than him... And even now that his blurred mind figured out that the monster denying him pain and suffering had probably been intended as a torture in itself, he wasn't now in the condition to use that knowledge. The skeleton had relented anyway, and had showed him just how far pain could go; how delusional the veteran had been. His resolve was broken, but he felt more at peace knowing where his place was.  
Now he could go. He didn't care whether he died quick or slowly by asphyxia.  
But the monster cut off his trail of thoughts by talking with a soft, almost caressing tone :

''there was a house in a field far from the city.''

What was that, now ? A tale ?

''in the house lived a happy family of four : the father, the mother, and two adorable children that always played together.''

Confused, the man could only listen, his mind barely registering the monster's words in its numbness.

''but one day, the father had to leave for war. he kissed his wife and his sons goodbye.''

The flow of deep, rumbly voice soothed his thoughts furthermore. He felt tranquil, sitting still and listening, still high from the recent agonizing pain.

''when he returned, he wasn't the same anymore. he was mean. and he didn't stay long, leaving some day to who knows where, returning an other day, just to leave again. the mother, too stressed out, started being mean on the children ; and as the first born grew older, he became mean to his younger brother in turn. he became mean to everyone. especially cute little things, like his dear brother, because he felt strong by comparison. as strong as his dad was compared to his mom ; as strong as his mom was compared to him.''

The numbed mind of the man was slow to connect the dots.

''the first born had no friends, but the day he was old enough, he left the house and went for war. there, he made plenty of bully friends, and he could be mean to a lot of people without getting punished. but it wasn't enough. he wanted to be mean to stronger people, like his bully friends. so he started getting punished there too. until the day he resigned and went back home to his family; but in the house in the field far from the city, only his brother remained, with no father nor mother left, all alone... and the brother kicked him out, which made him very sad, and very lonely because he had no friends nor family now.''

The skeleton marked a heavy pause, before continuing :

''so the first born, now a man, moved in the city and joined another group of mean bullies, worse than the last. but it wasn't enough. he wanted to beat stronger people, so he did. and the bullies praised him for it. so he did it over, and over, and over again. until one day, monsters came out of the ground. monsters were meaner than the meanest, stronger than the strongest. but, among those monsters too strong for him, was a grinning skeleton who made a proposition : help take down his group of mean bully friends, or die. the man was not afraid of death. so the grinning skeleton had another idea.''

The monster bent over the table, and opened the file to show a sheet of paper that slid up to the silent man, up to the few gorey pictures of his personal achievements that now surrounded the sheet. On the sheet, a picture of the human's brother. Seeing this managed to tear him away from his numbed contemplation, and dread softly raised goosebumps as he saw his childhood house address on it.

''maybe if the man doesn't care about his mean, lonely, pitiful life, maybe he would care more about his poor, shy, harmless younger brother's. he is still living in that house in the field, far away from the city. he never left. he is still waiting there. for someone to come for him. should that be his monstrous brother, or a real monster ?''

He paused for a few seconds, letting his words sink.

''so... maybe the man could stop being difficult, and consider accepting the grinning skeleton's offer, because this isn't just his own life in question, there.'' 

He tapped lightly the brother's picture for emphasis.  
After some more few seconds of silence, the skeleton laid back on his chair, sighing, seemingly really tired by everything.

''so... what will it be, human ? suffer a horrible death an' kill yer bro with ya, or spit everything out, an' save yer bro ?... we're eatin' sumethin' either way, cuz i'm fuckin' starvin'. anythin' ya want will do.''

The man was staring at the picture of his brother and the address under it, dumbstruck.  
Why did the monster have to bring up his brother, now ? Now that he already had given up. This made no sense... The skeleton didn't say he would murder him if he said everything, but that hardly mattered now that his brother's life was on the line. He knew he hadn't been the best big brother that ever existed, but he loved his pussy of a brother either way.  
In the shocked silence that had followed his recent agonizing pain, the thought of his baby brother living the same thing seemed even more unbearable than his own torture. No one could toy with his baby bro. No one but him had the right to. He wouldn't allow that. He was his bro, no one else's.  
Maybe this was another trick, some trap, but the man didn't care either way. Seeing his brother on the picture, he found his mind drifting to memories he never cared to revisit before. His childhood.

Everything wasn't grim back then. His brother was a light in the darkness, and as toxic as his mother had been, she knew how to cook delicious meals on her good days. He remembered how he and his brother would be happy over dinner on those kind of days, vainly wishing things would stay like this.  
There was a long time he hadn't eaten her speciality, as he always unconsciously avoided any place that served it, in some delusional fear that it would taint the very few spots of brightness his past held... or worse, trigger some dark memories back.  
He sighed. That monster had his brother in mind all along, hadn't he ? Everything else, the room, the laidback attitude, the sudden ultimatum, all was meant to rile him up, just so that the skeleton could beat him down a few pegs without much effort, and then end him with this threat over his brother's life.  
That monster was good at this game, and the human didn't want to ever play anymore.

So be it.

With a tired tone, he ordered:

''Fine. Fetch me spaghetti.''

The skeleton opened his eyesockets wide, his crimson eyelights shrinking in what looked like surprise.

''really? spaghetti?''

''Yes.''

''why?''

''What do you care why? I wanna eat spaghetti. Then I'm telling you everything.''

The skeleton snorted, but nodded.

''okay. hold on, i'm gettin' ya da best spaghettore in town.''

The monster stood up then, and as he tried walking he startled, stumbled, failed to catch himself on the table and fell forward.  
The man watched him with distant bewilderment as the skeleton seemed to fight againts his own... shoes ? Oh. Right.

''whadda hell? really??''

He was casting the man an accusatory look. He shrugged in response; witnessing the monster fall to his prank wasn't any pleasant now that he just escaped agony, accepted to sell his gang in exchange of his brother's life and expected to be murdered either way. It wasn't like the pile of bones was humiliated in comparison.  
Surprisingly, the monster's face relaxed and he laughed. Hard. Well... he hadn't been taking all that seriously his role of dominant untouchable prick, so falling face flat on the ground suited him well enough. Had the man cared, he would have felt disappointed as even this couldn't be taken as a victory.

''heeeh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh heh, oh shit human- you're- fuck !''

The man could only stare at the monster in bewilderment as he fumbled with his laces.

''heh heh heh heh, da shoelaces tied togathah, a classic... shit !''

Tears even beaded at the corner of his eyesockets.

''shit, dude ! 's painful ta loose another prankster. yer killin' me.''

If only.

Once he managed to untie his laces, he got up.

''heh. dat's why i prefer slippers. boss doesn't hear reason. ah, an'...'' 

He turned to him with a wide grin. No doubt it would send cold chills down anyone's back. It would chill him to the bone, had he not been defeated so hard and so suddenly that everything seemed distant.

''yer a fuckin' troll.''

With these final words, the skeleton did an odd hand gesture to nothing, like putting a hand on an invisible doorhandle, walked another step... and with the sound of a creaking old door, he disappeared into thin air.

The human stared at nothing for a while.

Some emotions waved through him ; confusion, anger, amazement; but none of them took root. The only thing it inspired him was a shocked silence, soon to be broken by his snort. Turning in turn into a resigned, bitter chuckle.

He was such a fool.

Some time passed. He patiently waited on his chair for Serif to come back.  
Eventually, he heard the invisible door again, and with it, the arrival of two monsters.  
He barely looked at the newcomers that one of them already was at the table, loudly putting cooking tools and ingredients with swift, angry moves. Their booming voice startled him, as he recognized the monster who spoke to his torturer over the phone :

''SO YOU ARE THE INFAMOUS HUMAN LV HUNTER THAT GAVE MY SLOB OF A BROTHER TROUBLE ?''

He was a skeleton, just like the other one, who sat lazily on a chair right next to the man; only taller. Way taller and thinner, with sharp edges. There was no doubt he was the infamous Trajan, noncomittaly called 'Boss' by his crew. Contrarily to the shorter skeleton, this one was dressed with taste; wearing a 20's style black suit with an eye-catching red neck tie and shoes, slick black gloves and a red-band fedora. He had cracks above his right eyesocket and fangs protuding from his jaws. He looked far more intimidating than his brother... if not for the white flowery-patterned apron he was putting on.

''yup, dat's him, Pap'.''

The Boss didn't like his brother's words and nearly crushed the portable heater he just grabbed out of his bag.

''SAN- UH, SERIF. YOU EITHER CALL ME 'BOSS', OR I KICK YOUR BONEY FATASS OUT OF THE ROOM THROUGH THE CONCRETE WALL.''

''sorry, Boss.''

''BE USEFUL AND OPEN A WINDOW! THE AIR IS STALE... AND I SMELL YOUR DISGUSTING CIGAR ALL OVER. WERE YOU INTENDING ON CHOKING OUR PRISONER TO DEATH? BECAUSE IT HARDLY SOUNDS LIKE A SMART THING TO DO.''

''okay Boss.''

Serif stood up and walked a few steps to the side. The man tried watching the both of them in their own occupation ; the boss was apparently setting things on the table to cook, while-  
While Serif was... petting the air ? Petting in the air in a globally square shape that then- then the fabric of reality itself seemed to react, as he pulled it and it produced a different creaking sound that opened an invisible window in mid-air, to a dimly lit forest. A flow of fresh, pine-scented air invaded the room.  
The man gasped, staring at the impossible window in disbelief.  
He chose to not question it. He breathed with sudden ease the fresh air, relieved, grateful. All pressure that remained on him disappeared, clearing his mind of all the mist.  
Loud clanks made him snap his attention back to Boss. He was busy... executing tomatoes.

''IT IS A SHAME THAT A HUMAN OF TASTE LIKE YOU IS GOING TO DIE. BUT FOR YOUR TROUBLE, YOU WILL HAVE THE BEST LAST MEAL EVER, FOR I, THE TERRIBLE TRAJAN, AM THE BEST SPAGHETTORE IN TOWN.''

As Serif got back to sitting next to him, the man absentmindedly pushed his chair backwards, just to put some distance between him and the loud skeleton repeating onslaughts on poor innocent veggies. The shorter skeleton followed his lead, and they ended up being both sat against the far wall, watching in silence the Boss make a mess on the table, and the floor surrounding the table, and the ceiling above the table, and soon the walls and the two men sat side by side, unfazed.

''YOU SHOULD CONSIDER YOURSELF HONORED, HUMAN, FOR VERY FEW OF YOUR KIN HAS EVER TASTED THE SPECIALTY OF THE MOST FEARED MONSTER MOBSTER BOSS.''

He kept on making a mess of the table as well of the whole room, coating the walls and ceiling with splatters of tomato sauce.  
Was that some kind of culinary torture ? The man wasn't so sure about eating his last meal now. He felt better now that there was a window -that he tried hard not to look, its very existence causing nervous bugs in his brain, despite how enticing it was to watch something that wasn't grey concrete, something like the dark trees-. He felt good enough to be clearheaded. And despite his thinking, he had no clue why this Boss monster would be 'cooking' his last meal like he was murdering his whole family in front of him... Oh. That was. Probably the picture he was aiming for. It was farfetched, though admittedly imaginative.

''KNOW, HUMAN, THAT I VALUE THE BRAVERY, PERSEVERANCE AND LOYALTY YOU SHOWED. YOU STOOD YOUR GROUND FOR ALMOST A WHOLE DAY, WHILE IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO EASY TO TELL US WHAT WE WANTED TO HEAR TO AVOID ANY PAIN. YET, YOU RESISTED, PUSHED MY LAZYBONES OF A BROTHER TO DO ACTUAL WORK, AND EVEN THEN YOU ONLY RELENTED WHEN YOUR OWN BROTHER GOT INVOLVED. LOYAL TO YOUR GANG TO THE POINT OF SUFFERING DEATH, BUT MORE SO TO YOUR ONLY FAMILY TO THE POINT OF SACRIFICING YOUR GANG FOR HIM. AND ULTIMATELY, YOU PROVED TO BE OF GREAT TASTE BY ASKING MY SIGNATURE DISH FOR YOUR LAST MEAL. I AM COOKING THIS FOR YOU, AS A REWARD FOR YOUR HONORABLE BEHAVIOR.''

Was he hearing right? Was the one of the actual dons of the monster's syndicate praising him?  
The man turned towards Serif questioningly. The stout monster caught his movement in the corner of his eyesockets and just nodded. The man frowned and resumed watching the skeleton murder the spaghetti recipe. The man wasn't a great cook himself, but he knew that this wasn't cooking. This was a weird artisitc performance at best, a lousy joke at worst. What came out of it couldn't possibly be edible.

''I CAN ONLY ASSUME YOUR BOSS IS A GREAT PERSON, BECAUSE ONLY GREAT PEOPLE CAN SURROUND THEMSELVES WITH VALUABLE SUBORDINATES LIKE YOU. THIS GIVES ME EVEN MORE DETERMINATION TO VANQUISH THEM AND THEIR CREW, AS I AM SLOWLY GROWING TO RESPECT THEM AND HIS PEOPLE. YOURS ARE FIGHTING HONOURABLY FOR YOUR GANG, THAT IS SOMETHING I NOTED. YOU ONLY PROVED THIS FURTHER, EVEN IF YOU BETRAYED THEM IN THE END. I WOULDN'T BE SO APPRECIATIVE OF YOUR EFFORTS IF YOU HADN'T RELENTED FOR YOUR BROTHER'S SAKE... HUMANS HAVE THE SENSE OF FAMILY, AFTER ALL. THAT IS A COMFORTING THOUGHT.''

He stopped stirring the sauce for a second, looking at the veteran straight in the eyes.

''UPON HEARING YOUR FEATS AND WHAT YOU ASKED AS YOUR LAST MEAL, I DECIDED TO COME HERE TO COOK IT MYSELF, FOR YOU. THIS IS AN HONOR I AM GRANTING YOU IN THE NAME OF MONSTERKIND, AND BY EATING IT, GIVE US INTEL AND BRAVING DEATH BY OUR HAND, IT IS AN HONOR YOU WILL BE GRANTING US IN RETURN.''

The logic behind the speech escaped him, but the human could only believe this skeleton truly meant every word of it. It felt... as absurd as it was, it felt good. He felt warmed up by his words, and he realised this monster was actually the first person who ever considered him worthy to cook for. He snorted.  
The boss frowned and loomed slightly over the table.

''WHAT IS FUNNY, MAY I ASK ?''

He couldn't see why not telling him.

''You are the first person I met who considers me worthy to cook for. … If that can be considered cooking.''

''OF COURSE THAT IS COOKING. WHAT ELSE WOULD IT BE ? I AM COOKING WITH AS MUCH PASSION AS I BRANDISH AGAINST MY ENEMIES !''

''I see that. You're killing that sauce, and it's terrifying. But moving, too. I've never had anyone be so passionate about offering me something before.''

''NONSENSE, HUMAN. AS MUCH AS I CONSIDER MYSELF THE GREATEST ON MANY ASPECT, SOMEONE HAD TO HAVE GIVEN YOU WAY MORE. IF NOT YOUR FAMILY, THEN YOUR GANG.''

The man snorted again.

''No... really, no. My colleagues aren't what I'd call friends. They're trash. And my boss is an ass. You don't have to confront him in any way, the way things go he'll soon have a mutiny on his arms and he'll get killed by his own men. I've never had any loyalty for those scum. As for my family, no, really. There's only one person I ever cared about, and he is staying away from me.''

That seemed to disconcert the tall skeleton further more.

''THOUGH I SEE WHY YOU ARE WILLING TO DIE FOR YOUR ONE AND ONLY FAMILY, WHY WOULD HE REJECT YOU ?''

''... In truth, I don't die for anyone but myself. I've lived my life the way I wanted. I'm dying for my own pride in knowing I've been at least a pain in your brother's pelvic inlet, for just a short moment. Your brother that I hadn't even met before today. And my brother kicked me out of the house because I'm a douche. That was dicky on his part, but... he doesn't deserve to die with me.''

That startled a laugh out of Serif. Sure, it wasn't absolutely honest. The man recalled very well this feeling of defeat on him after he had been granted what he asked for. He didn't win in any way, but with a clearheaded mind breathing more naturally, he realised he actually had given Serif a challenge. He wasn't sure how exactly, but the genuine reaction of the skeleton proved his words truer than he thought them. The boss smiled if only slightly and resumed preparing his last meal.

''WELL, IF THIS ISN'T DISAPPOINTING. MY HUMAN BOSS RIVAL OF THE MOMENT ISN'T WORTHY OF HIS OWN SUBORDINATES. BECAUSE I STILL THINK YOU ARE WORTHY, HUMAN. THE SIMPLE FACT THAT YOU MADE THAT SLOB HERE WORK PROVES YOU WORTHY ENOUGH. YOU CALLED ME A PERSON. AND I LIKE YOUR ATTITUDE. I WOULDN'T WANT TO HAVE TOO MANY SUBORDINATES LIKE YOU, BUT A FEW WOULD MAKE A CHANGE.''

He finished making the sauce and set it to warm up wile the pasta was cooking in simmering water. None of the cooking devices he brought were plugged, but they worked somehow. The man didn't question that.  
Eventually, the horrorshow ended as the boss cleaned and set the table for three, which made of the piece of furniture the only immaculate thing in the room. His own apron was now stained with red juice that uncannily recalled blood, but his clothes underneath were pristine; he removed it and turned back into the intimidating classy mob monster.

''DINNER, IS READY !''

Seeing how the meal had been cooked, the man wasn't sure he wanted to eat it. The two skeletons took place and started eating, so the human assumed it was safe enough.  
Well. He was about to die either way, so it wouldn't make a difference if the food was poisoned.  
He shrugged and gulped a forkful of spaghetti that-  
Burned his mouth with how acrid it tasted.  
He coughed a bit then managed to swallow. Why was he inflicting hat to himself ? Hadn't he suffered enough from his own foolish defiance ?

''WELL ? ISN'T THIS THE BEST DISH YOU HAVE EVER TASTED ? WILL IT GRANT YOU THE HONOR TO GO IN PEACE ON A DELIGHTFULLY FULL STOMACH ?''

The man dropped the fork in his plate and answered bluntly:

''That pasta's shit.''

Silent shock filled the room as the boss glared the human down, sockets empty of all light.

''WHY WOULD YOU SAY SUCH A LIE.''

''I'm dying either way, so I've got no point in lying. That pasta's inedible. I thought you wanted to kill me with your own hands, not poison me. And you gotta keep me alive if you want to hear what I've got to tell you, so you better not make me eat that crap you call food.''

Suddenly, the boss stood up, looming over the table that wringed under the pressure of his hands gripping its sides. The prisoner had never considered monsters could be so strong physically, and that made him flinch ever so slightly.

''SAY THAT AGAIN.''

''That pasta's shit. In all honesty. I can't eat it.''

With brutal strength, the boss ripped the metal table from its screws like it was nothing but paper and threw it on the side wall. The prisoner straightened on his chair, admiring the power this monster just showed off, only a tiny bit frightened.

''WHO ARE YOU TO INSULT THE MEAL THAT I, OF ALL PEOPLE, SERVED YOU ??''

Only the certitude that, no matter what he said, he would die either way made him answer flatly, with no burst of fearful stutter or hesitation.

''I'm the son of an Italian mom. As much of a bloody whore as she was, she knew how to cook spaghetti of all things. That.'' he designated the remnants of the meal scattered on the floor. ''Is trash. I have never tasted anything so absurdly bad. It's not just the way you cooked it, there must be something wrong with the ingredients. Or maybe it's just your magic that makes anything rot under your touch. I dunno. I just know that it's terrible and nearly burnt my taste buds.''

The tall skeleton straightened his back.  
The human expected him to strike him down and it would be over with. Quick. Probably not clean, but the room was already a mess as it was.  
He just hoped that his brother wouldn't pay for his last defiance.  
Surprisingly though, instead of tearing him apart, the monster started counting backward from then, hands fidgeting at his sides. Then, he walked swiftly to the nearby wall and punched it when he reached 0. Then he started over, quicker and quicker, punctuating each serie of counting with a hard punch on the concrete.  
The man stared at Serif in disbelief.

''Why does he not punch me instead ?''

''he doesn't wanna.”

“... Sure, but-”

“ ya still gotta be able to speak.''

''… Okay.'' It made sense.

''say... i liked our little game back there. you tryna push my buttons, me beatin' ya down a few pegs... but i dun' like that yer tryna play da same game with Boss.''

''I'm not playing anything. I just said the truth.''

''and insulted him.''

Serif was giving him what was accurate to call a death glare. His eyesockets were empty, and though his tone was calm, it was colder than he ever heard him before. Had he talked to him like that during questioning, he might have actually considered spilling the beans sooner.  
Which made him wonder, if the monster was that pissed he insulted his brother's cooking, why was he not giving him another round of his magic? Why holding back when he could just shut him up with a light flick of his wrist?

''I don't see how facing the truth is insulting in any way. How can you expect to get better if you can't take criticism? It's insulting to lie and swallow his shit just to save his feelings, as if he couldn't take it.''

Serif's eyesockets widened and his eyelights returned.

''comin' from ya, it sounds kinda hypocrite.''

''Oh, yeah?''

''yeah. how many o' those 'truths' did yer own brother take b'fore kickin' ya out o' his house ?''

That actually made him snort.

''Far too many. But my bro's a special case. He's living in his dreams, he needs a few shots of clear, unforgiving reality sometimes. Even little, I already took responsibility. Showed him how to defend himself. Showed him what kind of bullying the other kids at school might do to him if he didn't toughen up.''

''wow. ya were both in a shitty family already an da best ya came up with was ta abuse yer bro? damn. I didn't think my little tale was that accurate.''

''Your own brother is currently managing his anger by destroying his knuckles on a concrete wall.''

''it's more like he's destroyin' da concrete wall with his knuckles, but i got yer point.''

The man cast a look at the mumbling skeleton, and realised it was true : a bit of dust fell down the wall at each punch.

''How are you not king of the world with such strength?''

''heh.'' He didn't comment any further for a few seconds, before telling him, out of the blue: ''yer trash.''

Soon after those words, the tall skeleton stopped punching the wall and came back to the previous location of the table, no more fidgeting. He had left his mark on the wall, but his hands didn't look pretty either, the gloves teared open on the knuckles, which were sipping with some strange transparent fluid that might be blood, the cracked bones taking the aspect of dust without shedding yet. His gaze was locked on the prisoner, and when his brother talked to him, he didn't address him a single glance.

''weather ?''

''STORMY AND HAIL.''

''gimme yer hands.''

''NO.''

His hands clenched harder ; the man heard a distinct cracking sound.  
Serif answered calmly, cooly, with a soft tone that wasn't any different from the one he used when telling him his improvised tale. Thinking about it, this made this exchange with his own brother quite unsettling.

''boss... ya need help with tha'.''

''DON'T TELL ME WHAT I NEED. I CAN HEAL THEM MYSELF.''

''then ya should prolly start doin' it. cuz it's not healin'.''

''IT WON'T BE, SO LONG AS I'M BEING LIED TO.''

The man raised his hands placatingly.

''Hey, I didn't lie-''

''NOT YOU, HUMAN.''

Only now did his gaze turn towards his brother with a murderous glint in it.  
Serif laid back in his chair, and the man couldn't decide whether this was a flinch or just a relaxed composure.

''YOU TOLD ME MY SPAGHETTI WAS THE BEST THAT HAD EVER BEEN COOKED. HOW MANY DIDN'T TELL ME HOW IT REALLY TASTED, IN FEAR THAT THEY WOULD PISS ME OFF ? WHO MADE THEM THINK I WAS A PISSER IN THE FIRST PLACE? BROTHER??''

It was Serif's cue to raise his hands placatingly.

''whoa, boss. I didn't lie either.''

''WELL YOU SAID MY COOKING WAS THE BEST. AND THIS ONE-'' He designated the man, who was just watching things with a slight confusion, ''SAYS IT IS THE WORST. ONE OF YOU IS A LIAR, AND THE HUMAN CLEARLY TELLS THE TRUTH.''

''what are you implyin', Boss ?''

''I AM SAYING THAT, OF BOTH, _YOU_ ARE THE BLUFF MASTER. AND I FEEL UTTERLY BETRAYED AT THE PROSPECT OF HAVING BEEN LIED TO BY MY OWN BROTHER FOR ALL THOSE YEARS.''

Serif chuckled.  
This was not the reaction his brother wanted.  
The taller skeleton lounged for him and raised him above the ground by his shirt collar and started shaking him.

''WHAT IS SO FUNNY, BROTHER?? AM I SO FUNNY?? AM I-''

''glass.''

The man didn't know how the single word, spoken so softly, managed to placate the tall skeleton's ire, but it did. As soon as that word was spoken, the boss dropped his brother as if burned, flinched three steps backwards and brought his hands behind his neckbones, breathing sharply.  
Meanwhile, Serif just stood up and brushed his shirt of, as if to smooth it. This took a few seconds that were obviously getting on the tall monster's nerves, but aside from his foot lightly tapping the floor, he stood silently.  
Eventually, the stout skeleton said, with the same soft tone he used earlier:

''sit.''

The tall skeleton obeyed without a word, and didn't bother looking for a chair. He sat on the floor, his interminable legs folded in front of him. His foot stopped tapping the floor, but his knee started twitching instead.

''… bro. i laughed because ya did yer dramaqueen schtick, i didn't think ya were serious. i didn't think ya were serious, 'cuz i couldn't start thinkin' o' why, o' the two possible explanations to da situation, ya immediately jumped on da one that makes me a traitor to my one an' only family. kinda hurts my feelings, yaknow?''

The taller skeleton groaned.

''f'course ya know. now what do ya say to yer big bro ?''

''EXPLAIN YOURSELF !''

''heh... not what i wanted ta hear, but that'll do.''

He took a big inspiration, then waved lazily at the human still sitting- wait. The human was now standing by the window, gazing at the trunks of the tree bathed in the grazing evening light, as if he could use the distraction to flee. Serif snapped his fingers and the opening to freedom closed suddenly. The veteran startled and looked at him with an annoyed glare, as if assuming he would run was that stupid.  
After a few seconds or staring contest, the stout skeleton resumed :

''… dat guy here says yer cookin' sucks. an' he's not lyin'. i-'' 

He now brought the same hand to his chest 

''have been eatin' it my whole life, living off of it when we were hungry, no need to say that yer signature dish saved my life, an' yers. i said it was good, an' i wasn't lyin'. i'm tellin' ya it's da best. am i lyin' to ya?''

The taller skeleton's knee stopped twitching, as he scrutinized his shorter brother's face.

''YOU DON'T SEEM SO.''

''am not. heh, looks like we got a paradox on our hands. ya do like paradox, do ya ?''

''I HATE IT.''

''common. use yer logics.''

The taller monster grumbled, but complied.

''THERE ARE TWO PEOPLE SAYING CONTRADICTORY THINGS. BOTH OF THEM ARE TRUE IN THEIR WORDS. SO EITHER ONE OF THEM IS A GREAT LIAR, OR BOTH ARE SAYING THE TRUTH.''

''so... what do ya think ?''

''HOW COULD YOU BOTH SAY THE TRUTH- WAIT. HE SAID THE BAD TASTE COULD BE MAGIC. HE IS RIGHT, IS HE ?''

Serif produced a dramatic sigh.

''here we are! yer very clever, bro. ya figured it out!''

The tall monster detangled his fingers behind his neck, bringing his hands down, stiffness seemingly leaving his spine.

''OH. I SEE. THIS IS WHY...''

The man cleared his throat, sitting back on his chair now that everyone seemed calmed down.

''Not that I really care to know, I mean, I'm gonna die either way, but I don't get it. How is something as atrocious as those pasta be so delicious to you monsters?"

Serif answered, as his brother started collecting the scattered items, seemingly lost in thought.

''ya may have noticed sumthin' peculiar 'bout us, human: we are skeletons. we don't have taste buds.''

''… And ? If you have no sense of taste, you shouldn't be able to tell that it's delicious.''

Serif sighed.

''monsters are all 'bout intent'n magic. when Boss cooks, all his passion he's fuelin' with pours in his dish with his magic an' dat's all we taste. it's spicy 'n fortifyin'. all monsters that ate his pasta were invigorated, no matter what it actually tasted like fer them. but humans are pissy fuckers dat don't have da sense o' intent, they all are trustin' their tastebuds, spittin' out all the healthy good stuff just 'cuz it's a tad bit too bitter fer their delicate palate. cookin' ain't a thing o' feelin' fer them, it's bland chemistry. they dun' control their own projections an' aura, makin' their meals a maelstrom o' contradictory flavors dat very few monsters can stomach. Not even talkin' 'bout da lack o' magic necessery to absorb it.''

He turned his attention back to the tall skeleton who was trying to set the table's legs back straight with his bare hands (and succeeding, in some way).

''weather ?''

''… SNOWY.''

''yer hands ?''

Trajan simply raised a finger. His hand was visibly covered with running green sparkles. Serif chuckled fondly, shaking his head.

''if i didn't know ya were feelin' terrible fer doubtin' me already, i'd take dat finger an' crack it off yer hand. but i'm a good big bro an' i'll let it slide.''

''NYEEEEH, I'M SORRY IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR ??''

''wanna hear da truth, bro.''

''WELL THAT IS THE TRUTH !''

''great. i believe ya, Boss. cuz yer my greatest brother an’ i trust ya. problem solved.''

The man couldn't decide what to think about all this. He was confused as to what to even feel. Was he still about to die? He wasn't even sure of that, but he most probably would. This crap dish was supposed to be his last meal, so there was no way he could survive this. He was resigned to meet his fate, so long as his brother didn't pay the price.  
Thinking of whom, an odd smile crept up his face. A fond smile. Seeing the skeletons bicker brought him more memories... There was a long time he hadn't spoken to his brother like this. Before he could even think about it, he started talking :

''My younger brother was a pain in the ass.''

Serif turned to the man with clear annoyance on his face.

''what makes ya think i give a shit o' what yer relationship with' yer bro’s like ?''

To that, the man only smiled with a relaxed composure. This deflated the skeleton's annoyance, who chose to sit back to his chair and accept the conversation topic, since the prisoner wasn't about to stop talking anytime soon. The prospect of death made him more careless about what he said, more prompt to get emotional too; and that was fine to Serif. He needed him to be talkative anyways, or all of this would have been vain.

''I wish he was as reasonable as yours. When I talk to him now it's like I talk to a stranger. That's prolly why I haven't talked to him in years...''

Surprisingly enough, Serif answered on the same kind of confiding tone.

''where i come from, ya gotta stick to yer family. the world is cruel, even more so to monsters, so ya have to have people to trust with yer own life, cuz it's simply impossible to us to live with no social bounds. i can't even imagine what my life would've been if i had ruined my relationship with Pap... i'd prolly be dust by now. Boss? maybe he'd have survived and found an other family. he's great and capable like that, but... wouldn't have been the same without me to have his back.''

The man chuckled.

''My bro wouldn't have lasted a minute down in your hell hole. He was too cocooned by mom... He was her favorite, perfect child. She even dressed him like a girl when he was a toddler. Can you imagine? No wonder he grew into a pathetic wimp. A pathetic wimp with good grades that could make mom proud... but she wasn't proud of him. She was proud of herself, as if she wasn't a fucked up bloody whore the rest of the time... I had to get a bit hard on him, toughen him up, make him a man, cuz she wouldn't do that for him. And dad wasn't there to do it either. I'm kinda glad he wasn't. For all the time I spent missing him, I know now he was even worse than her. Had he been there, he would've made a fucking cunt of me, and worse so of my bro... So I did everything in my power to make him a man. I think I succeeded. When you see him now, you wouldn't tell he's anything but a man. And when mom died, he inherited everything.''

Aside from the man's resigned and nostalgic ranting, only the sounds of the room being tidied and cleaned by the tall skeleton were breaking the silence. Serif was a good listener, letting the prisoner talk everything out. He wasn't in a rush to get his info. He would listen to whatever he wanted to spill, so long as he got the info he needed in the end.

''I can't believe he stayed into that house. When I came back from war, I found him there, and he had renovated some things, especially the basement. But even with these changes, it all seemed far too familiar. It was still the same house, the same air... The same memories. Renovating it wouldn't get rid of all the bad vibes in there... I told him that. He could as well sell the house, now that it must have gained more worth with the renovations. But he refused. He kicked me out of there and stayed in this prison. It can't be healthy. The world is vast, his door is opened, but he chooses to stay... there. In this... cage. I don't get it. I don't... understand. Why he let me down for this... place.''

''maybe cuz ya were, i quote, 'a douche'? yer words.''

''Yeah, well, he's grown now. He must understand I did all that for his sake... He didn't turn out too bad thanks to me.''

''whatever makes ya sleep at night.''

Both of them contemplated the disturbed silence for a few seconds, before the man resumed :

''I don't think I am a bad person.''

That was unexpected; the skeleton started to laugh.

''I do bad thing, but. I do that because that's what I am. You can't be all bad just being true to yourself, can you?''

''heh heh heh heh heh. yeah, yer right. morals are just a vague an' relative concept to help copin' with shitty lives in a shitty world filled with shitty people.''

''… Isn't that religion?''

''...yeah? whatever, both are closely related in human culture.''

The man slowly nodded, thoughtful.

''talkin' o' which, isn't now time ta betray yer whole gang?''

''Ah, right. Well, the stock is hidden in-''

''THAT'S IT !''

He was cut by the Boss who brought the table back in the middle of the room, globally straightened back to shape, and set it back in its place. It dangled, but it didn't prevent him from slapping his two hands loudly on it while looming over the man.

''I HIRE YOU, HUMAN.''

''wait, what ?''

''AS AN HONEST AND STRAIGHTFORWARD HUMAN, YOU WILL BE MY TEACHER !''

Silence. The man tried to understand the trick. Or at least to try and decipher the logic behind that cracked skull. He failed.

''Er... Teacher of... what ?''

''TEACHER OF HOW TO BE AN ITALIAN MOM !''

The man blinked.  
Now the tall skeleton was pacing the room doing wide and dramatic hand gestures.

''I'VE BEEN THINKING WHILE YOU TWO WERE BUSY CHATTING ABOUT THE WEATHER, AND I'VE COME TO A DECISION: MY PASTA IS ALREADY THE BEST PASTA MONSTERKIND EVER TASTED. NOW I MUST EXTEND MY ABILITIES TO THE FIELD OF THE HUMAN CULINARY ART ! IMAGINE THEM ALL, MONSTERS AND HUMANS ALIKE, FEEDING OFF MY COOKING. GLORIOUS! PRESTIGIOUS! STRUCK WITH THE OVERWHELMING TASTE OF GREATNESS, THEY WILL ALL JOIN MY RANKS! MAKING THE ICE CHAPTER THE MOST POWERFUL BRANCH OF THE WHOLE FAER SYNDICATE! AND THEN!!!''

He turned to the stout skeleton with determination radiating from his blazing red eyesockets.

''POWER, BROTHER. WE WILL BE POWERFUL.''

''… boss... that plan is... perfect.''

That last word was spoken with genuine conviction, admiration in his eyelights as he looked up at his younger brother.  
That was too much.  
Struck with the absurdity of the situation, the man laughed.  
Both monsters turned to him questioningly.  
He took his time to calm down his hilarity, as the tall skeleton crossed his arms on his chest and the short one stuck his hands in his pockets.  
At this point, Serif had no idea what this human was about to say. He could see them outright reject the miraculous proposition, just to spite them like the unpredictable troll he was.  
Once the man was able to speak again, he said :

''Damn, monsters, you're something. You think I'm gonna betray my gang and my kin just because some over enthusiastic skeleton maniac ruined my mother's dish, promised not to horribly murder my brother and plans on conquering the world ?''

The two skeletons tensed and narrowed their eyesockets. The man laughed more.

''You are right. I'm in.''

Now their eyesockets were wide open.

''YOU ARE ? REALLY ?''

''Dude. My other option is to die, and I just. Can't say no to that. You're going to be the best Italian mom ever, Boss.''

The tall skeleton beamed.

''But I have a request.''

''ya got nerves to ask fer a request when yer only other option is to die.''

''I’ve got as much nerves as you got spine, Sheriff.''

Serif snorted, though begrudgingly.

''… why do ya hav' to be funny, human.''

''DON'T START A PUN CONTEST WITH THAT SLOB, HUMAN, OR I MAY RECONSIDER MY OFFER. WHAT IS YOUR REQUEST ? IF IT IS ONE EVEN I CAN'T GRANT YOU, I WILL RESORT TO RELUCTANTLY KILLING YOU.''

''My brother needs to get out of the house... it's full of memories. Not happy ones. And he insists on living in there... when I came back from war, I had a lot on my head. A lot. And yet it was easier to cope with my mess than just sleeping into that damned house.''

He shook his head.

''How he puts up with this is beyond me. I know he's as much of a fuckup as me, but living there ? It can't be good to him. He needs to live in reality, not some weird as fuck dream of a happy childhood we never had. If you want me to join you, he must come with. I haven't spent my entire childhood looking after him for him to screw his life living in that tomb in the middle of nowhere. Make him join the gang as well ; I'll keep an eye on him, I will protect him. And he will be useful too ; the brat is resourceful. Even if he never exploited his potential on his own ; he only needs a bit of encouragement.''

The two skeletons looked at each other.

''WHAT KIND OF PERSON IS YOUR BROTHER ?''

''Shy. Discreet. He survived school because no one paid attention to him, otherwise he'd have been bullied into suicide. But he's clever, give him a chance and he'll prove useful to you.''

''WELL... OF COURSE I WOULD GLADLY REUNITE THIS BROKEN FAMILY OF YOURS.''

''I don't get it. The world is open and vast and he chooses to stay trapped in there. If you guys never had the Barrier holding you down, you wouldn't have stayed underground, would you ?''

''i get whatcha mean.''

''SAY NO MORE ; CONSIDER YOUR BROTHER PART OF THE CHAPTER, AND YOUR OLD HOUSE SOLD.”

He then produced a golden pocket watch from his jacket and checked the time.

“THIS NON-FIASCO OF A DINNER MADE ME ALMOST LATE TO THE MEETING. I’M GOING THERE.”

''need a lift?''

“NO. SERIF, YOU GO MAKE OUR NEW RECRUIT SIGN HIS CONTRACT AND GIVE HIS ASSIGNMENT, THEN GET HIS BROTHER TO A SAFE PLACE FOR AN INTERVIEW; WAIT THERE FOR ME.''

“on it, Boss.”

Contract? That was uncommon in their business. Assignment? The way the Boss worked sounded a lot like the military; It wasn't to displease him. An interview of his brother, though… that was a tiny bit disturbing. But at least, he would survive; and then, they would be reunited again. He started to finally process the fact that he wasn't going to die, and soon be with his brother. He would make up for all the trouble he had given him in the past, and give a piece of his mind all the same for kicking him out of the house so roughly. Then, he would learn to know him better; the little pussy was a man now, he proved it when he threatened to kill him with a shovel. But, man or not, he would take care of him, like a good big bro. Whether he liked it or not…  
He felt excitement growing. Little ol’ pussy Billy won’t be so cocky once he’ll have no one but Big Bro looking after him.  
He smirked.  
While Serif did his thing in the air again to create an opening to some other place, the veteran almost didn’t notice the Boss walk up in the air like climbing invisible stairs, and phaze through the ceiling. At this point, he felt like anything monsters did was crazy shit… Which made him wonder what kind of assignment they would give him. He hoped he’d have to beat up and kill some strong mobs. Maybe even his ex-colleagues. That would be exhilarating. 

Just thinking about it made him snicker… He had the intuition he would absolutely LOVE working with the monsters.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this one. Feel free to tell what you thought about it in the comments!  
> Like in the previous Dinner, there is room for further development; but I'll first work on an other Dinner with other skeletons before starting to develop either of those fics.
> 
> If you guys want to hang out, chat about fics, share fic suggestions or even betaread, here is a server for that:   
> https://discord.gg/sp8PUX  
> Feel free to pass by!


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